Some Kind Of Sequel
by Shrimpmeister
Summary: Following on from the events in Some Kind Of Wonderful. It's six weeks later, and the aftershocks of the date and the showdown at the party are felt in many ways by many different people. As always, feedback helps the story get better, so comments please!
1. Chapter 1

Amanda shivered as the unseasonable chill breeze blew in across the campus. Clad in her tennis gear, she stood apart from the other girls, in spirit if not in body. She watched as Shayne and Holly chatted excitedly about the forthcoming weekend and their plans: shopping, making up, and making out.

It was six weeks since the night of the party, the night of the date. The night she had helped to humiliate Hardy in front of everyone. She looked back on that evening in detail, feeling the fire that had built up through the events of that one night once more. The guilt at lying to her parents about not being with Hardy. The way that guilt turned to anger – at herself as much as at Keith. The slow journey from anger, through understanding, and finally to friendship. And to top it all, the showdown. The confrontation with Hardy at the party, where he had shown himself for the coward he really was, and she had shown the strength inside to stand up to him – something she still envied in Keith was the way that courage came instinctively to him.

Snatches of Shayne's voice drifted over – no doubt deliberately. Since that night, their relationship had been zero. No calls, no shared rides home, no chats in the dining hall, no messages pushed into her locker – nothing. The longer this went on, the lonelier Amanda became. She now realised that however superficial her life before was, however shallow and one-dimensional her friends were, at least they filled in time. Time was something that Amanda now had in abundance.

As the bell rang to indicate the end of this period, Amanda turned and trudged off back towards the changing rooms. Others were still talking in groups, about boys, tennis, music, boys, makeup, fashion, and boys. Only Amanda walked in silence.

Above her, sat at the back of the raised seating, Keith watched her walk off alone. For him as well, that night had changed everything. His changes had all been for the better, though. The acceptance of his friends, the reaction of the other students, when hearing about the events at Hardy's party. Word sure had spread quickly. Even the teachers, especially those that had been on the wrong side of Hardy Jenns before, had smiled and indicated with a nod that they knew, and they understood. He was now one of the few people at the school that could mix in almost any clique: the nerds looked up to him. the regular guys wanted to be him, the skinheads and rockers high-fived when they passed him. Even a few of Hardy's old followers had stopped by, to quietly share how they were glad to be out of the cycle of bowing to the Mighty Jenns.

Of course, the biggest change of all had been the stinging realization of his feelings towards Susan. It still amazed him that he could have known her for so long, without truly knowing the woman she was. How he could have looked at her for years before seeing the beautiful face, the smile that lit up not just her own face, but now his as well. He'd even started calling her by her first name now. As if there were two distinct people: Watts, the best friend and drum-obsessed tomboy, and Susan, his new best friend and first true love.

Keith reckoned that Susan had actually changed. She seemed much more relaxed now, and he could tell from the way he caught her looking at him, she felt the same way about him. For her, of course, it had been different. Her feelings for him had grown over years, from when she first reached the age where boys were no longer annoyances to ignore or avoid. All the thoughts, feelings and emotions that she had kept bottled up inside for years, she could now express. People were bound to change.

Which bought his thoughts back to Amanda.

He had seen her face as she walked away. So sad, so lonely. It was the kind of face he'd worn himself a few weeks ago. It bought a realization that he was, in part, responsible for her still. He'd been so wrapped up in himself, his new status, and with Susan, that he'd allowed other people's feelings to slip from his mind. Seeing her face, the face that he had etched into his memory and crafted so carefully onto canvas, so devoid of animation and laughter, hurt him deeply. He looked at her back until she turned the corner and disappeared from view. "Party's over," he thought to himself, "but the night's still dark."

He turned and walked slowly down the steps towards where the car, and Susan, would be waiting. What are we going to do?

Outside the front of the school, roof up and windows raised, Hardy Jenns sat in his car and waited. This in itself was a strange act. His usual style was to lean against the side of the gleaming black sports soft-top, shades on and hiding how his eyes scanned the locality for women – either ones he had or ones he desired. And what he desired, he got. At least, until recently.

Hardy had all but disappeared from view over the past month. Oh, he'd made his classes so that his grades didn't drop too much, but where he could get out of school, he'd done so. The reaction to Nelson's 'performance' at his party had shocked him – much more so than the event itself. He was Hardy Jenns, for Christ's sake! People liked him! So why, when the choice was to stand with him or alongside that pathetic, weak painter, had almost everyone deserted him?

It had taken a few days to realise that the attraction he had held for so many people was not himself, nor was it for his money, which at least he could have understood, if never respected. But did the level of power that his money gave him really elevate him so much that people surrounded him through fear? And fear of not being in the right crowd? Was his popularity purely down to people being afraid of the alternative? Well, Amanda Jones had blown that theory. She's shattered the myth that was Hardy's popularity and control with a power far greater than the force actually delivered when she'd slapped his face. And whilst the sharp pain quickly faded, the lasting feeling inside his gut remained strong and grew more painful.

But six weeks can give you lots of time to think. And Hardy had been thinking, and scheming. And now he had a plan. His eyes watched intently as Keith skipped down the school steps and walked off down the road to where the green Mini was parked. His hands tightened around the steering wheel, and as his knuckles whitened, his determination to get his revenge was complete.

Keith barely registered that there was any other cars around. His eyes were fixed on the girl in front of him. Cut-off jeans reaching to mid-calf, black leather vest over white t-shirt, spiked bleach-blonde hair, glints of reflected light from smile and eyes. He was sure glad that the car was hers and not his, the way she was tapping away with the ever-present drumsticks on the hood.

"You're going to need a new paint job!" he called out to her.

Susan looked up and her smile became even wider as she saw his face.

"You could be right. That's why we're so good together, you being a painter and all!"


	2. Chapter 2

It was a crowded table in the Nelson household that evening. As usual, all the family was there, but tonight they had an extra chair to accommodate. Watts came over often after school, and her eating with Keith's family was becoming a regular thing. Plates of meatloaf, dishes of creamed potato and vegetables were passed around haphazardly, and like always, Cliff ended up holding the dish for which there no longer seemed to be a place on the table. Figuring that if anyone wanted any more carrots they would ask, he put the dish on the floor next to his chair, and reached for the salt.

"So…" he started, ignoring the look he was getting form his wife Carol, who knew what he was about to say, "This whole college thing…"

"Dad!" replied Keith with a sigh. "We spoke about that. I'm going to go next year, and I'm staying local."

"Where local? Northfield? Smithson?"

"I haven't decided yet. All I know is that I've got… different priorities now" Keith said, while his hand moved under the table to lightly rest on Watt's thigh.

"I think we ALL know that one" his sister Laura threw out. Inside, she was delighted for her brother – not least because she had managed to raise her own reputation by association. No girl really needed to be known as "The one with the nerdy brother", but "Keith Nelson's sister" was carrying her pretty high at the moment. Secretly, she had started planning how she would change this so that she was better known than he was. For now, she's happy to be better known than her friends.

No need to let on, though…..

"Still, Keith," his father persisted, "I'd feel happier if you'd settle on an actual school, and an actual curriculum."

"Ok, Dad. I'll get onto that – just not this week? I've got stuff that's kinda taking up my time right now..."

All eyes around the table rolled in union. However, it wasn't all about Watts, as Keith alone knew.

A half hour later, the dishes drying in the kitchen, two figures walked hand in hand alongside the railroad tracks. Dust rose as the wind picked up the dry earth, covering every surface a muted red-brown, as if they were walking through an old sepia-colored photograph.

"I saw Amanda earlier today", Keith said, squeezing Watts' hand just a little tighter as he spoke. "She's…. not doing so well."

"I kinda guessed so. She's acting pretty different these days" replied Watts, still aware of the newness of their relationship, and that things could well have turned out differently, had Amanda Jones not been so honest, or had Keith really been as dumb as he'd previously appeared.

"In what way different?"

"Well…. Before, when she was part of the in-crowd, she would…."

"What?"

"Well, she would show off when getting changed after Gym class. You know – taking the bench in the middle of the room, and taking her time over drying her hair and stuff. Just so's people would notice her."

"And you… noticed her?" asked Keith, seeing the red flush spread from Watts' face down her neck and (he guessed) across her chest. She only ever did this when she was _really_ embarrassed.

"Yeah, OK? I did!" answered Watts, a little loudly, a little defensively. "I wanted to see what you saw in her. How she was different from me. And don't you _DARE_ say a word!"

Keith choked back the comments that had sprung unbidden into his mind. He had studied both girls in enough detail to know that he well understood the differences between his fantasy and his reality, his picture of perfection and the perfect girl that had been in front of his eyes all the time. Now was not the time to run through the list, however.

Watts continued. "Now she's much less open, way less obvious. She hides in the corner or nearest the door so she can make a quick getaway. Won't dry her hair or stand there in her, you know, _things_, like she used to."

"I know what you mean" said Keith, desperately trying to get these new images out of his head. "I saw her at the tennis courts earlier, and she was all alone – not a single person even looked her way. She may as well not have been there at all. I'm getting worried about her, you know? We've come out of this one OK – people like us, and we've got each other. But I don't think Amanda has a friend in the whole school right now."

"But I don't know what we can do, Keith. Can you really see her hanging with us? Running for pizza, and watching you changing the oil on your bosses' Mercedes Benz? Is that what you want?" asked Watts, hoping for him to quickly say no.

"I can't see her being around all that grease and stuff, no. But I can't help thinking that I'm responsible, and that I should do something…"

As they walked on in silence, Watts hoped that he'd only avoided answering her question by accident.

* * *

Amanda Jones sat on the front step of her house, pretending to read the text book in her lap. Whilst her eyes scanned the page, her mind was elsewhere. From inside the house, sounds of normal domesticity were muted by the closed door – her mother in the kitchen, making bread for the local church ladies' circle. Her father in the den, watching the game on the TV. In her head, Amanda heard these sounds echo and fade. It was as if her previous life had counted for nothing, had amounted to zip. All the time she had spent dragging herself up to the level of Shayne and the others, believing them to be the ideal she should strive to copy. And she'd got there. Oh, she knew that they were the real deal, with the money, the cars and the jewels. Just as she understood that they knew about her as well. The working parents, the small house in the housing sector east of the tracks, no car, no money, no prospects. But she'd worked at it, focused on the important things – style over substance, attitude over friendship, and most of all, availability over common sense. That had brought her to Hardy's attention, and from there it was a short trip to full acceptance – or so she had assumed.

Only now was she realizing that everything that she'd treasured during those three years had been false – they knew who she was, and tolerated her, first because it was all a joke, because the little poor kid wants to join in with us. After that, it was the Hardy Jenns factor that prevented them from dropping her – so as soon as she was no longer with him, they simply closed the door on her.

"Amanda! Come here and give me a hand, will you please?" called her mother from the kitchen.

Amanda stood, and used her sleeve to wipe the tears from her eyes before turning and going back inside.

Across the street, leaning against the streetlight, Hardy Jenns watched with growing interest, and a satisfied smile on his face. Things were setting themselves up very nicely. Two people who are so wrapped in each other, they can't see what's going on, and the third one so mixed up inside her head, that she'd never see what was happening until it was too late.

Just a couple of calls to make and we can get started, he thought, as he walked away around the corner to his car.


End file.
